


Armed Without Control

by UnmaskedPotential



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Bisexuality, Coping, Gen, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Mild Kidnapping, Romance, Sony vs Disney BS, TAKING PROMPTS, evaded death, sexuality exploration, spiderfrost - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 08:22:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20355379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnmaskedPotential/pseuds/UnmaskedPotential
Summary: What if a story existed where the real life Sony vs Disney deal impacted Peter Parker in the MCU? And what would happen if a certain, reformed trickster in this AU was still alive to take in the spider? Would love blossom or would fraying emotions reign? Includes SpiderFrost and any ideas are welcome.





	Armed Without Control

It was everything he ever feared happening--happening all at once.

Peter Parker may not have been the most popular kid in high school--hell, where did those teens with privilege wind up actually?--but the few friends he did have, he had close relations with.

Ned was his guy in the chair--his left armed man, his buddy, his pal.

MJ was right beside him, reciprocating in her liking of him so that they could plan outings with each other and so that the role of being Spiderman (and all the costs that came with it) wasn’t resting on his shoulders alone.

In fact, Aunt May and Happy really helped with the precarious balancing act that was brown haired, brown eyed Peter Parker’s life.

It’s just that when everything hit the fan and the wall, windows and ceiling, Peter was left dejected, discouraged, lost and incredibly, incredibly sad.

Maybe even sadness wasn’t the right word. Maybe it was rejected, stressed, desperate and lonely.

God may have even thrown in some apathy, too.

All Peter really knew for sure was that it felt like everything in his life was breaking apart, cascading down in pieces surrounding him. It felt like he was boxed into a corner, made to feel small and trapped.

It made him feel like he was left alone to battle against Thanos.

It made him realize just how much Mr. Stark’s guidance was needed--no, required--in his life and he felt himself gasp for air as he remembered--_Mr. Stark is gone._

Mr. Stark had died.

He had fled from the world but not at all out of cowardice, rather extreme bravery and heroic aptitudes.

Yet he was still gone.

He had left Peter behind to go on…did anyone truly know where?

It still felt raw. It still hurt deeply.

Peter knew it wasn’t personal, he knew there was little anyone could do to stop it from happening, but just like now, everyone was powerless in the situation.

Mr. Stark had left Peter and Peter desperately wished for himself to get the chance to hold Tony a little closer, a little tighter in their last hug.

But he’d never get the chance now.

He’d never get the chance.

Peter sighed heavily, breaths outpouring from his lungs like he’d been holding them back for years.

Not only was his entire private identity being exposed to New York City, the United States, the world--but he was also being framed in a crime he never committed.

And now, now he’d been ripped away by corporate hands from everyone who would normally have been there to help him.

Now, he felt truly, truly alone.

It wasn’t that the Avengers on world weren’t contacting him--they were--it’s just that they couldn’t do very much to help him.

Greed and recognition, forces unseen and deals made with profit in mind had been conducted and Peter…Peter was merely the byproduct out of all of it.

He had to--he **had** to--go with the flow of it.

He didn’t have any other choice.

He was as lost in this as any of them were. He could only try to recuperate, try to move forwards; try to cope with the magnitude of the situations unfolding around him.

But he felt like--so overwhelmingly like--that just wasn’t possible.

If he truly had no control over what happened to him and his life, then what did he have any control over?

How was he meant to pick up his suit, slingshot everywhere when no true place was safe?

It’s not like he could really escape what has happened because now **everyone** knows.

Everyone is having judgments, weighing in on his circumstances with all of their opinions and Peter…Peter was left with what exactly?

He had nowhere he could go.

He felt eyes on him every place he went.

He was falling apart.

He was trapped. Confined. Stuck.

And he felt he had no one to turn to; no one who could understand the enormity of every situation pounding into his skull over and over.

No Mr. Stark, no Avengers team, no control, no help, no secret identity, no anything.

Even if the Avengers, those who were ostracized during the Accords, could understand, could reach out to him, they still could only offer a shoulder to cry on and little else.

Peter felt so much like a pawn in a cruel chess game that it made his lungs feel like they had caught on fire.

There had to be a solution! There had to be something he could do.

All he knew for sure was that the weight of the universe was on his shoulders and there was only so much any hero could do for him.

So, he did what he thought was the one thing he did have control over: he cried.

Sat up on that tall glassed skyscraper, silhouette reflecting into the mirrors, Peter Parker AKA Spiderman cried.

He bawled, he wept, he mourned.

And as the sun departed on a twisted universe and the fading orange-pink sky turned to purple and a dark blue, Peter still cried.

Because it was all he could do.

It was all he knew he could control.

**?**

It was eight o’clock when a snot dribbling and red eyed Peter Parker entered with shoulders slumped into the small, cozy aired café. Books of all sizes and colors lined the three walls of the shop, stacked both high and low as only a few people sat amongst hardwood round tables with tall black chairs.

Peter edged to the side of the café, backpack slung over one shoulder with his hood up to obscure his face--hoping no one would recognize him and make a scene.

He inched closer and closer to the menus on chalkboards hanging over the kitchen behind where the cash register was.

Although he hadn’t been in this shop for a few months he couldn’t help but be surprised regardless of the new barista ringing up a customer.

He had dark black hair as undertones of a rich purple. His green eyes blinked back at the elderly lady in line as she asked for thirty different ingredients for her drink. The barista produced a grimace that was meant to be a smile as he rang up her order and made to move to create it.

“Would you do me a favor, young lady?” The elderly woman said, hands shifting back and forth in the air as her muscles trembled lightly.

Without missing a beat the barista said, “I’m a man, ma’am.” He shot her a forced grin and started to place the ice cubes into her drink.

She blushed lightly immediately although it was lost under the face of full make-up that she wore.

“Oh, my apologies, dear. Would you be so kind as to add cinnamon to my drink?” The lady, dubbed by Peter as Darlene, looked over the tops of her glasses with consideration.

“Of course, ma’am,” the barista replied, adding the wanted ingredient promptly as the final touch to completing her drink. “That will be six seventy-five, ma’am… Out of ten?” He unhooked the drawer and took out her change. “Have a nice day.” He said as the lady shifted away into the night just beyond the café.

The barista took a deep breath before sending a smile in Peter’s direction, as he’d tried to shove his face into the spines of three large books just to appear like he was busy and not at all previously eavesdropping and observing.

“Welcome to One Stop Coffee Shop.” The barista said, nearly robotically. “What can I get for you today?”

Peter coughed and sniffled, unable to smell through his nose and looking like a lost squirrel.

The barista’s eyes narrowed, as he took in Peter’s situation more analytically.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, quickly eyeballing the other two couples behind Peter’s back as they got up ready to leave for the evening.

The barista glanced at his watch, realizing they’d be closing soon.

He smiled warmly at Peter now, locking up his cash register and gesturing to the café’s seating area.

“Please,” he whispered in a breath of cool air. “Have a seat.” He rushed over to the glass doors as the other guests left and he flipped their sign to _Closed_ as Peter shakily took a seat.

“My name’s Leon,” he said, an English accent wrapping around his words. “And yours?” He pulled out his own chair across from Peter before a new (and fantastic) idea struck him. “Hold that thought,” he breathed again, hurrying back to the kitchen to whip up a drink for the bristled teenager.

He returned a few moments later as Peter’s eyes stared blankly at the table.

“A hot chocolate,” Leon said, smile eagerly eating up his rounded face. “It’s a drink for comfort.” He smiled a little more, ushering with his hand as he uttered, “Completely on the house, free of charge.”

Peter’s eyes welled up more as Leon provided him with a convenient and sizeable tissue box.

“Th-thank you.” Peter croaked feeling as though he didn’t deserve any of this.

And maybe in that he was accurate but not for the reasons he may think.

“I-I’m Peter,” he offered to Leon in return.

“What seems to be the problem, Peter?” Leon asked with care, flicking green eyes over Peter’s brown.

“It’s…it’s more than I can say,” he began in a hoarse rasp. He kept his eyes on the red, white and blue mug. He distantly recognized it as a Captain America mug.

Leon sat staring at Peter, nodding slowly. He waited for Peter to continue and he soon did.

“It…feels like the world has been pulled out right from under me. I--I feel so alone. No one can help me out of this situation and-and I don’t know who I can trust and where to get help.” Peter looked up, brown eyes quizzically eyeing Leon. “No offense, but I don’t really know you, either.” Peter sighed. “All this superhero stuff has already made me jaded.”

He flew his hands up to cover his face at the same moment he realized he’d let something major slip. He slowly uncrossed his fingers to see the horror on Leon’s face but instead found compassion and understanding.

“We’re living in very, very strange times, indeed, Peter.” Leon’s face held a grim expression as he continued, “In the end we’re meant to just take it all day by day.”

“But I’m not supposed to do that.” Peter cried out in exasperation. “I’m supposed to be better than that. I’m supposed to be more than that. How will I ever live up to Mr. Stark’s name if I can’t even decide what to do in the face of adversity?” Peter’s hood had collapsed behind him as he wracked his fingers through his hair. “What am I supposed to do with the very, very real threat against my aunt, girlfriend and best friend? There’s no way I can escape this. I’m done for.” A dark shadow had befallen the teenager’s eyes. “I don’t know what to do, if there’s even anything I can do.” He exhaled hard. “I’m lost.”

“And soon you’ll be found,” Leon answered, an impenetrable wall of ease and calm.

“How are you doing that? Why aren’t you freaking out?” Peter suddenly felt overcome with panic. This wasn’t another mortal enemy within his vicinity, right?

Peter felt his head spin and he bit back the need to vomit.

“One of us has to keep a level head,” Leon calmly asserted, placing an open palm beneath his chin. “Besides, freaking out is only going to raise your emotions more. You need someone to help you with problem solving. It’s okay to need that help.” Leon nodded with his expression thoughtful.

“What are you going to do today to help yourself?” Leon asked, sliding the mug closer to Peter, hoping he’d take the hint and sip from it.

Peter, for what it was worth, grabbing ahold of the hot beverage’s holder. He took a cautious sip, back hunched as he stammered, “I-I think I may need to leave town.”

“Where will you go?” was Leon’s next question as doubt flooded the teenager’s nervous system.

“I-I don’t know.” His eyes pooled with tears again.

Through the haze of his emotions he felt a cool, light touch by his fingers as they were heated with some warmth.

“Breathe, Peter. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Peter hiccupped. “You don’t know that.”

“I do, because you have so many people who love you out in the world. It’s just a matter of finding them.” Leon smiled with encouragement. His eyes flitted back to the register, narrowing as he thought.

To Peter he offered, “Why don’t you stay with Happy for a few days? You’re not in school, are you? Even Fury could offer you a safe haven.”

Peter attempted to re-compose himself, meekly at best.

“I don’t think I can have contact with them. And I don’t think it’s safe being with Ned or MJ or Aunt May. I-I don’t have anywhere that I can go.” Peter licked his lips, soothing himself blindly with his now cooler hot chocolate.

Leon stayed quiet for a few minutes and just when Peter was beginning to think Leon never existed, he spoke up with, “You could stay at my apartment for a few days. I have a spare bedroom and…assets at my disposal that I could teach you. I might be able to help you create a new identity for yourself.” Leon offered, mind running through the possible solutions and myriad of options before them.

Peter’s brow furrowed.

“Assets? I’m not sure that I--”

“Magic,” Leon clarified expression serious with a small smirk upon his lips.

“Oh. Like Doctor Strange?” Peter asked, still confused.

What was the probability he’d run into an Avenger, the people he was being pulled away from most, in an unsuspecting coffee shop?

“Better,” Leon nearly interrupted with his quick appraisal. “But you have to come with me or else you’re facing a few nights alone in the inner city on the streets or at a shelter.” Leon made a face. “That doesn’t sound nearly as pleasant, does it?”

Peter nodded but still had his reservations.

_Stranger Danger_ and all.

“How do I know you are who you say you are? Can you--do magic right now to show me?” Peter exhaled loudly. “Sorry if I’m not so gullible the third time around.”

Leon accepted Peter’s circumstances, turning his mug of hot coco into a pleasant little garden snake.

Peter frowned, “I was totally going to finish that.” He shifted in his chair. “And there aren’t any projectors or hidden cameras in here that could disprove your magic theory?”

Leon stared at Peter, almost in challenge.

Peter chuckled, raising his hands, “Hey, I said I wasn’t new to this rodeo.”

Leon looked with care back at the adolescent.

“Well, there is one more thing…” He trailed off, nearly asking Peter for his permission.

Leon bit his lip when Peter said he was ready and the green-white shimmer slid across his form.

What appeared instead was a green, gold and black clad demigod. Green eyes mildly pitied Peter as the teen exploded out of his chair enough so that the table flipped over and he was ready to dig Karen out of his backpack.

“Relax,” the trickster mused. “Yes, the name is actually Loki but I worked my ass off too hard for this coffee shop to have to clean spider webs off the ceiling again.” He held up open palms to help quell the teenager. “I am unarmed. I merely am offering my home to you.”

“Why?” Peter asked hoarsely, brain working sluggishly in contrast to the fear that wracked through his body.

“That answer is going to cost you,” Loki hummed to himself. “First, we should get going. The crowds after you may find you here yet.” He gracefully stood up from his chair, shimming back into his Leon form. He yawned, placing the security code into his shop, locking up and turning the snake back into a mug.

Peter was about to declare that he wasn’t going to go willingly with the god who tried to destroy and crumble New York City but the demigod was already taking him loosely by the elbow as Peter felt the tendrils of exhaustion color the edges of his vision.

“Did you--?” Peter mumbled, tripping over his own two feet.

Leon made a pained expression. “My apologies, Peter. I just can’t keep up with the hassle of getting you to realize you should come with me. It’s really for the best. The Avengers won’t find you, the world won’t know where you disappeared to, and your friends will be none the wiser unless you decide to tell them of your new identity.” He sighed, guiding Peter to the door. “This really is for the best. You’ll see.”

Peter just managed to glimpse the velvety night before sleep overcame him and all he saw was darkness.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Welp, so here we are with a brand new fic that I never knew I’d need to write. So, um, this is going to be a SpiderFrost fic, because uh, why the hell not and because I do like the idea of Peter being bi, hehe. 
> 
> Also, I only created this fic to deal with my immense emotions after hearing about the Sony vs Disney BS on Twitter the day I started to write this. Consider this my newly adapted coping mechanism to that otherwise devastating news. ;] (Also, I’m still not emotionally ready to handle re-watching Endgame again. Anything related to Iron Man still makes me choked up! D: )
> 
> Also, also, I’ve been itching to do a love interest Loki fic for a while, so this works doubly as good for that (although I feel a little bad that it kinda turned into a Loki kidnapping Peter story at the end there, so let’s hope the Stockholm Syndrome isn’t too bad for our beloved teen). 
> 
> And I also know the whole Loki being centuries older than Peter is some shit straight outta Twilight and that Loki is most definitely dead in canon but let’s just ignore those issues and focus instead on the soon to come fluff and how these two will get along. 
> 
> I apologize too if Peter is OOC here, he’s not my main MCU character I write for, although that probably doesn’t give me much excuse if I can re-watch his movies and read fics about him. Sigh. 
> 
> If you happen to have any ideas for this story’s many plot holes, send me a review or a message! I’m totally open to reading them :]
> 
> Stay safe, peeps, and thank you so much for reading!! 
> 
> Background music:  
“Low” by Greyson Chance; “Hold On” by Chord Overstreet  
Handwritten: 8/20 & 8/21/2019  
Typed and edited: 8/22/19
> 
> PS I am going to soon be updating the following stories: ALU, IIOC, S and D&D. So, look out for those! :]


End file.
